


quietly it was told to believe

by certifiedclown



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Link (Legend of Zelda), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Link (Legend of Zelda), Blood, Blood and Injury, Breath of the Wild Spoilers, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Feral Link (Legend of Zelda), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Prince Sidon, Gerudo Town, Guilt, Hurt Link (Legend of Zelda), Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Link (Legend of Zelda) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Link (Legend of Zelda) Has a Potty Mouth, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Link (Legend of Zelda) Uses Sign Language, Link (Legend of Zelda) is a Dork, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Mutual Pining, POV Link (Legend of Zelda), Pining Link, Pining Link (Legend of Zelda), Pining Prince Sidon, Protective Prince Sidon, Rito Village, Survivor Guilt, Trans Character, Trans Link (Legend of Zelda), Violence, Weapons, Zora Courting, Zora Culture, a little bit. as a treat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedclown/pseuds/certifiedclown
Summary: You feel something akin to failure. What have you failed? Who have you failed?"Wake up, Link," the voice of a princess says, and you obey.You ignore the sudden weight of living.You are Atlas, and your shoulders were built to carry this weight, but you still feel as if you are going to crumble. You don't know if you can do this.You're going to try to anyway.
Relationships: Daruk & Link & Mipha & Revali & Urbosa & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Impa & Purah (Legend of Zelda), Link & Mipha (Legend of Zelda), Link & Prince Sidon, Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Prince Sidon, Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Mipha & Prince Sidon, one-sided though - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	quietly it was told to believe

( _ There is something simple in rest - in that black void where you do not exist and there is nothing in the world that can hurt you.  _

_ After all, there isn't a world in this place and, therefore, there isn't anything that can touch you here. Nothing can reach into the abyss - their fingers lose substance, that clumsy weight that comes with living, and grasp at nothing at all.  _

_ In rest, there is safety - an assured knowledge that you have no body that will throb and pulse and bleed and ache from wounds long since dealt - infected and left unhealed.  _

_ No body, no aches. _

_ But, like everyone else, you have to wake up _ .)

He comes into the world slowly, in painfully crawling increments that scrape at the edges of his molars and grind against his canines in a decidedly unpleasant way that feels akin to eating sand. It dries out his mouth and leaves his tongue cracked and aching for relief. And then there is light - a golden glow that starts out soft and gentle before it blazes behind his eyes.

And then he wakes up.

( _ "Open your eyes," a voice says - soft and gentle like the light was at first. You wonder if it will blaze and blind you. "Open your eyes," it says again with a cultured lilt to its words that makes your stomach sink oddly. _

_ You feel unworthy. _

_ "Open your eyes," it repeats and you obey because there is nothing else you can do. The voice is cultured and sophisticated - every word carefully shaped and delivered with purpose. The voice of a princess, you think, and feel even worse for a reason you do not know and cannot name. _

_ You feel something akin to failure. What have you failed? Who have you failed? _

_ "Wake up, Link," the voice of a princess says, and you obey. _

_ You ignore the sudden weight of living _ .)

He wakes in a pool of shallow water, laid out like a sacrifice meant for gods long dead and forgotten. He sympathizes with them greatly as he crawls from his stone bed and stands on weak knees, both in that he feels like he has died, and in that he feels profoundly abandoned. He doesn't think this is a fair feeling, but it doesn't matter. He is forgotten and he has forgotten. He is dead and he is alive, and there is nothing for him here. He can feel abandoned all he likes, but it will always be an aimless emotion. He doesn't remember who left him.

He doesn't remember anything.

This revelation doesn't bother him as much as it should, he thinks privately as he walks on unsteady feet and slowly finds his way out of the tomb he slept in. ( _ The voice guides you in gentle, consoling tones as if it knows you are starting to crumble, and you swallow back the bitter sting of tears. "This is a Sheikah Slate," she says, something tiredly excited hidden inside the gentle sound and somehow you miss it. You think it should be more vibrant, alive with color. "Take it. It will help guide you after your long slumber." Abruptly, you wonder how old you are.)  _ He finds clothes along the way - a shirt that is too small for him and exposes his midriff, simple trousers that end at his shins, wool socks with moth-holes eaten through them, and shoes with worn soles. They are very old, he notes as he puts them on with practiced hands, just like he suspects he is, but they are his.

He doesn't have much.

_ Behold! _ he thinks a touch hysterically.  _ All of my worldly possessions - the very clothes on my back! _

( _ You don't have the time to break down even though your eyes sting and burn, and you desperately want to scream against the hurt clawing at your throat. You don't know why you feel this way - only that you do, and that it is all you seem to be able to feel. A part of you wonders what that makes you; another part of you doesn't care - it trembles. _

_ "Link," the voice of the princess says once more, "you are the light -  _ **_our_ ** _ light - and you must shine upon Hyrule once again." _

_ And you want to scream at the unfairness of that - you don't even know what Hyrule is. You didn't even know your own name until the voice told you.  _

_ Later, when you have left the Great Plateau and have made camp, you will worry your name in your teeth. You will test the roll of the beginning, and the arch of the middle, and the flick of the end on your tongue, and you will deem it simple and concise. A poor boy's name. And you will wonder why it was ever in the mouth of a princess, and why her voice echoes in your head. _

_ But right now, you wonder why you have been chosen for the role of Atlas, why the world rests on your weary shoulders. _

_ What care do I have for this world I live in, but do not remember? you think but do not ask. You can't force the words from your lips, so they hang in your mouth, listless and dispassionate. What kind of light will I be, in this state? _

_ You think you will be dim. _

_ The voice does not. She is full of conviction when she says, "now, go," and a large part of you hates her for it. _

_ You have no other choice but to obey.) _

He pushes his hysteria back into the corner of his mind, buries it deep where it will go quiet, and climbs out of the cave ( _ you were right to call it a tomb _ ) he died in ( _ for surely you died _ ). There is a light at the entrance ( _ the sun)  _ and he runs towards it with blind abandon, desperate to feast his eyes on anything other than cold, dark, sleek stone and swirling patterns. And so he runs to the light, and out of the cave of what was once his final resting place, and into the wild.

And it is  _ beautiful _ .

( _ As you stare with wide eyes at the world laid out below your feet like a gift, the tears you've kept at bay come back with a vengeance that startles your bleary heart, and when you start crying, you don't think you'll ever stop. You half-way think your legs will fail you, that the sheer force of this wave of emotion will knock you over and you will drown under the weight of it. But you do not fall, your legs do not crumble, and you do not drown. And eventually, you stop crying. _

_ You think you're supposed to feel better after an emotional release like that, but you don't. Instead, you feel hollowed out, insides scraped clean, empty. You have nothing left to give. _

_ You have everything left to give. _

_ And as you take one last, long look at the tops of green trees, stretching grasslands, dark mountains, and a glowing volcano, you quietly settle into the role you've been given. Atlas, taking the world on his shoulders. You will make a good Atlas - your shoulders may be weary, but they are strong. The world will not fall from them, and you will not crumble under the weight. Even if you want to. Even if you think it is unfair. _

_ Something in you decides you will do it anyway.) _

Reluctantly, he steps away from the cliff's edge ( _ away from the view of the world you find beautiful, but do not find familiar)  _ and starts down the path of scattered stone steps, overgrown and lost to time. He picks a sturdy tree branch up along the way - holds it in his right hand, feels the almost familiar weight, judges the almost familiar grip, and swings once. He thinks he may have been a good hand at a sword once upon a time ( _ you think that's right, and ignore the sting of phantom blisters on your palms).  _ He files the thought away and straps the tree to his back like it's an old friend. It feels like a slight to an old friend.

There is an old man sitting by a fire ahead of him, and his eyes stick to the white of his beard like flies to honey. The color rings at something familiar, but nothing is familiar in this world, so he ignores it. He draws closer to the old man and forces his eyes away, to the right of his shoulder, and spots a torch set against the outcropping rock. It's a simple urge that makes him walk past the man, and take it. It is decidedly not simple to be questioned for it.

"Well then, just help yourself to that torch there," the old man says jovially, like he is a kind and happy man that finds humor in all things. Link thinks this is a lie. "And how, may I ask, are you planning to use it?"

This is where he falters. He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out except a wheeze of air even as his lips shape the words. Nothing of substance or weight leaves his mouth - no words, no voice, just a strangled grunt. There is an initial shock to not being able to speak that passes through him quickly, and settles into something  _ known _ and  _ safe.  _

And then his hands move and he signs,  _ as a weapon. Or to set things on fire. _

"That's certainly innovative!" the old man exclaims with a considering hum and a light chuckle added to the end. "However, it might be best to stick to its primary use. Many beasts roam the land - if you need a weapon, you may take my axe. Assuming you can find it."

_ That's kind of you,  _ Link says, suspicious and tired and weary. ( _ But you are Atlas now, and Atlas never tires.) _

"Hmph!" the old man grunts, dismissively waving a hand. "You know, it is a bit strange to see another soul in these parts."

Link considers this and asks,  _ who are you? _

"Me? I'll spare you my life story," he's waved off again. "What brings a bright-eyed young man like you to a place like this?"

Link hesitates and his hands clench before he signs,  _ a place like this? Where are we? _

He is ashamed to not know.

"Answering a question with a question, I see!" he is given laughter once again. "This is the Great Plateau. According to legend, this is the birthplace of the entire kingdom of Hyrule." 

With that, the man stands and points to a tall, stone building sitting alone and forgotten  _ (just like you).  _ Link stares at the green life growing up its sides and into its walls, and wonders where his roots are. He feels cheated somehow and feels angry for the emotion.

"That temple there," the old man sighs, and it is sad and weary ( _ you find that familiar, and what a relief that is, to finally find familiarity after waking up in a newly-made body, wiped clean and empty).  _ "Long ago, it was the site of many sacred ceremonies. Ever since the decline of the kingdom 100 years ago, it has sat abandoned, in a state of decay."

_ A ghost of itself,  _ Link says absently, turning to see the old man's eyes shine with something like grief. His fingers twitch.  _ Sorry, I need to go. _

And so he does, leaving the old man to sit by his campfire alone. He feels guilty for his abrupt departure, but the raw emotion contained in those eyes made him feel responsible for the hurt causing it. Maybe he was responsible. The thought of that hurts more than waking up alone and forgotten did, and he grits his teeth against the ache settling in his gut.

( _ You are a mess of emotions. You are sad and listless, and yet you are determined in spite of it. You do not know your purpose, but you know you will fulfill it. You do not find familiarity in much of anything, and yet you know how to speak with your hands in lieu of your voice. You remember nothing, and yet your heart acts as if you do. What a contradiction you are. _

_ Briefly, you debate letting the scream lodged in your throat out, but then the princess deigns to speak to you once more. _

_ "Go," she says, giving you direction, and so you do. _

_ This, you find as you find your bearings and follow the path she has given you, feels just as familiar as the well of emotion in that old man's voice. You do not know if you are as relieved now as you were then. You think, privately as though you are worried she will hear it, that you are resentful.) _

He walks from the old man's camp, past the old temple, and through stone ruins that make him feel a deep kind of sadness. It isn't detached, he notes as he walks through the rubble and dirt, but personal - as if he was alive when it happened, and lived through it, suffered through it. He thinks he didn't live, but that he died and, as he died, he watched it all fall.

( _ This, too, feels familiar. Not the scenery, though you think it should and are ashamed it isn't. But the emotions it invokes in you.  _

_ You wonder why this sadness is so deeply familiar that you can now find comfort in it. You don't think you really want an answer, but somehow you know one will come all the same.) _

Just as the old man said, there are indeed beasts roaming the land. Link looks at one with red skin and a pig nose, and his mind helpfully provides a name.  _ Bokoblin _ , it says, and he files it away as he cuts the creatures down with the axe he found buried in a tree stump just a few feet away from the old man's camp. ( _ You don't think it's his axe, but it's funny all the same that you found one so easily after he implied it'd be a challenge.) _

When the Bokoblins are dead, he sighs and wipes the blood on the sharp edge of the axe's blade on green grass that he knows will stain from the dark purple. It is with a heavy heart that he pilfers the dead monsters of their weapons and other belongings. Something compels him to take their horns and fangs, and so he does. He feels profoundly guilty for it, and wonders if anyone took his weapons from him - if they stole horns and fangs from his corpse before hiding it away.

He hopes these creatures do not come back.

( _ Weeks later, when you live through your first Blood Moon, you will find this funny in the way mad men often do, with a bitter resentment that swells in your chest and rings in your head like laughter. _

_ And when you are done, you will cry into your hands and catch your own tears. Because you are alone and there is no one else to do it for you. You have no shoulder to cry on but your own, and both of your shoulders carry the world. There is no room for you and your tears. _

_ The tears will fall into your hands callused from wielding swords and bats and clubs and axes alike, and they will drip between the cracks of your fingers and soak into the dirt below your feet, and Hyrule will be watered by the physical form of your grief. _

_ And you will wonder if a Blood Moon is what brought you back, or if the goddess is really so cruel as to make you live again.) _

He kills two more Bokoblins and four Chuchus before he arrives at his destination. It is a glowing orange pedestal like the ones in his tomb with dark, sleek floors covered in earth, and sheltered by rocks. It is with a trepidation born from a fear that he will be put back to sleep that he places the Sheikah Slate into the orange, watching with wary eyes as it twists and sinks inside.

And then the earth begins to shake, and the ground he stands on begins to rise.

A yelp leaves his throat and he drops into a crouch to keep his center of gravity stable as he is raised into the air, pulled from the ground. One hand reaches out to the pedestal, and he gropes at it desperately, eyes wide as he stares at the world below him that grows smaller and smaller until the tower stops and settles. Slowly, he gets his feet back under him and straightens, staring at the new towers in the distance.

He did that, but why? 

It is curiosity that makes him turn back to the pedestal, and watch as a glowing blue liquid is dropped onto the Sheikah Slate. He steps closer, brows raising when a map is displayed, only a section filled out. It's the local area, he knows, putting the Slate away.

( _ "Try…….try to remember," the voice says, soft at first before it grows in strength and sounds as if there should be a princess standing in front of you. "You have been asleep for the past 100 years," she tells you and you ache at the thought. At least you know how old you are now. "The beast….when the beast regains its true power, this world will face its end." _

_ And then you see it for the first time. A dark, glowing mass that swirls around the castle in the stance. Mouth open in a scream, full of hate and malice and anger.  _

_ There is a golden light inside the center of, you notice, and you think that must be the owner of the voice - the princess, forever fighting. And losing. _

_ "You must hurry, Link." _

_ Suddenly, the weight on your shoulders is unimaginably heavy and you feel as if you're going to be crushed by it. Can you die twice? Is there a limit? You feel like there should be a one death limit, and that you should be exempt from further deaths, even imaginary ones from being crushed by a responsibility you never asked for. _

_ You don't know if you can do this. The voice said you are a light, you think you are Atlas, and you think neither of those things will be enough. You are a dim light, and you won't be bright enough to pierce that darkness, and Atlas can only carry so much, and this is tipping the scales too far. _

_ You're going to try to anyway.) _

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to climb down from the tower, too afraid of falling to risk being reckless, and by the time he's on solid ground again, the sun is high in the sky. He thinks it might be around midday, and doesn't check the Slate to make sure. He feels overwhelmed and itchy in his own skin, and he just wants to rest ( _ even though all you've done the past 100 years is rest, you are still so insurmountably tired). _

He heaves a sigh and steps away, but he's halted by the old man gliding towards him. He watches as the man lands gingerly and observes the tower with considering eyes. Link wonders what he wants.

"It seems we have quite the enigma here. This tower and others like it have erupted across the land, one after another. It's almost as though….a long-dormant power has awoken quite suddenly," he trails off ( _ and you ignore the implications of that)  _ before turning to Link. "If you don't mind me asking….did anything... _ odd _ occur while you atop the tower?"

Link doesn't know how to answer that. He doesn't know if he can be honest or if he should lie. Something tells him that lying wouldn't work on this man - that he'll know even if Link doesn't have tells. And maybe it's the feeling of responsibly resting in his chest and pushing at the cage of his ribs, but he doesn't want to lie.

_ I heard a voice,  _ he says, watching the man's face carefully.  _ A princess, I think. _

"Well now! The voice of a princess, you say?" the man asks with a wry smile like he knows something Link doesn't. "And did you happen to recognize this mysterious voice?"

Link sighs and shakes his head,  _ no, I didn't. _

"I see. Well, that is unfortunate," the man says before he looks at the castle. It is with distant eyes and a mournful air that he tells Link of the monster trapped within. "For now, it is sealed, but just barely. It is regaining strength and soon it will unleash its blight upon the land once more."

( _ You chew on that for a moment, rolling it around on your tongue like it's something vile and rotting before swallowing it down to digest. You don't think you'll be able to. You think you'll be sick. You certainly feel sick. _

_ Sick with sadness, sick with bitterness, sick with rage, sick with hate. Does Ganon feel like this? If so, you think you can relate and what does that make you? _

_ Maybe you will be a bright light, after all. But you won't be kind. You think you might just burn. _

_ You don't want that to happen. You don't want to hurt people. You'll have to ignore the bitter resentment rolling around in your gut, and bury the blaming hate in your heart deep down where it can't hurt anyone but you. _

_ You're just a pair of shoulders to rest the world on.) _

"I must ask you, courageous one, do you intend to make your way to the castle?" the man asks after a moment  _ (something in you trembles at the title he has given you - you don't want to be courageous, but you have to be). _

_ I do,  _ Link nods, face grim with steely determination. 

The man laughs. "I had a feeling you would say that. Tell you what, if you get me a bit of treasure I'll give you my paraglider. It'll get you down from the Plateau safely."

_ What do I need to do?  _ Link asks and the old man points to a glowing structure nearby.

"There, see that? It began glowing right after those towers appeared," he looks thoughtful for a moment, but he shakes his head and continues. "I would think such a place might house some sort of treasure, wouldn't you? A treasure for a paraglider."

_ Okay,  _ Link agrees easily, jumping down from the slight hill.  _ I'll go get it. Be right back. _

And with that, he leaves the old man behind, jogging towards the glowing structure with a single-minded purpose. There's a large pool of water in the way, so he has to go around, and as he does, he notes the strange metal creatures. They're still like stone, and they certainly look like they've been that way for a very long time judging by the plant growth on them, but something about them sends a heavy shiver of dread down his spine. It's not an entirely conscious choice, but he finds himself giving them a wide berth. 

( _ Looking at their long legs and sightless eyes, you find yourself flinching away from them - as if they will come alive at any moment and rush you. It's a disconcerting thought, but something tells you it isn't unfounded. _

_ Your skin positively  _ **_aches_ ** _ at the sight of them - the scars on your arms and chest and legs burn with a phantom pain you don't remember experiencing as you are now, but it's still a familiar sting. Briefly, you wonder if they're how you died. _

_ The thought makes you sick and you turn away from them, forcing your eyes on the glowing structure - away from the metal creatures, away from whatever it is they make you feel. You're fine. You're fine. _

_ Your skin aches, your scars burn, and your mouth tastes metallic. But you're fine.  _

_ You have to be.) _

He grimaces a bit when he has to walk through a puddle of water to reach the structure and mourns the loss of shoe-related comfort. He shakes his head and looks at the ruins once more, cocking his head to the side as he does. He wonders if there used to be a bridge there - if it was part of a moat or if it was entirely caused by the battle 100 years ago. He decides the latter is much more likely, and steps up to the structure, activating it with his Slate.

_ Oman Au Shrine _ flies across the screen as it activates, the bottom half now a soothing blue. He hums at this development, intrigued despite himself, and quickly walks into the alcove, standing on the slightly raised platform. It glows beneath him and then sinks, lowering him into the innards of the shrine.

It's easier - and a surprising amount of fun - to solve the shrine. Much easier than he thought it was going to be, and enjoyable as well. It makes him feel as if he's done something useful and as he exits the shrine, one Spirit Orb stowed away, he feels that much more secure in his role.

The monk inside freaked him out a bit though. ( _ But the magnesis rune made it worth it, you think, eager to test it out more.) _

The old man ambushes him as soon as he's out. Link suspects this is going to become a regular thing, and is deeply displeased by it. He tries to keep the scowl off of his face - for politeness' sake. He doesn't know if he succeeds, but the old man doesn't look offended at least.

"You've managed to get your hands on a Spirit Orb!" the old man crows as soon as he's landed. "Well done!"

_ How did you know that?  _ Link asks quickly, a slow-growing paranoia leaping to the forefront. He shakes his head and signs,  _ nevermind, paraglider? Please? _

The man chuckles good-naturedly. Link thinks he might hate him a little. "Clairvoyance, my dear boy! Or perhaps something similar. When you grow older, you start to notice things that used to be hard to see. Or perhaps that is not true for everyone!"

Link doesn't know what to say to that. The old man barrels on.

"The arrival of those towers and the activation of the shrines….," he pauses before gesturing to Link's Slate. "Why, it's all connected to that Sheikah Slate you carry on your hip there."

Link peers up at him and signs,  _ what do you mean? _

"It's been quite a long time since I've seen that Slate," the man hums. "Long ago, a highly advanced tribe known as the Sheikah inhabited these lands. The great power of their wisdom often saved these lands. But their ancient technology disappeared long ago….or so it is said. It is interesting, however, how something like that survived all this time, hidden away in a shrine."

Link thinks of the tomb he emerged from - of the dark, sleek stone it was made of and the glowing blue light that emanated from it - and tries to ignore the implications of the old man's rant. He almost wants to ask him about it, but he doesn't. His fingers curl into fists, nails biting into his palms painfully. The sharp sting grounds him.

( _ You almost want to scream, you think. You want to grab this man by his white heard that makes your chest feel heavy with something akin to shame, and demand answers from him - for surely he knows more than he's let on. He's the only other soul on this plateau, you know, and you think he has been waiting for you for a long time. _

_ You resent that he's keeping that a secret from you. _

_ How do you know? you want to yell. How do you know? What aren't you telling me? Why aren't you telling me? Is this a game? I don't want to play anymore. _

_ What would happen, you wonder with another wave of bitter resentment, if Atlas let the world fall? _ )

"There are many of these shrines scattered across the land. Why, on this plateau alone, I believe there are three more!" the man continues as if Link hadn't gotten lost in his own head. "Bring me the treasure from each of those shrines, and I will give you my paraglider."

_ That wasn't the deal,  _ Link says, movement sharp and angry.  _ We agreed on one shrine. _

"Oh?" the man hums. "Well, I've changed my mind! I'm sure that won't be a problem for a young go-getter like you."

_ Fine,  _ Link snaps, jaw clenched.  _ I'll do it. _

He doesn't know what possesses him to pull the Slate from his hip, open the map, and select the blue icon for the tower, but he's grateful for it. It transports him to the top of the tower instantly, and he decides that is a very useful feature he will be using frequently in the future. From this high up, it's easy to spot the remaining shrines, and he quickly marks them on his map before teleporting to the Oman Au shrine.

On his way to the closest shrine - Ja Baij - two of those metal creatures  _ come alive  _ and he barely keeps the scream rising in his chest at bay. His legs lock up and his lungs stutter, and he just barely dives out of its field of vision. And then he stumbles onto another one and has to climb a wall to get away from it. Thankfully, the shrine is on the other side and he happily takes shelter inside, but he has to find a way out now. Preferably a way out that doesn't mean crossing those  _ things _ again.

He's not looking forward to it, but he grits his teeth and solves the bomb trial as quickly as he can, exiting the shrine with heavy feet. He allows himself a brief moment of pure, unadulterated dread before throwing himself back into the fray. He does manage to find a way to almost completely sneak past the two things and avoid getting singed to a crisp, but there are a few close calls.

When he's far away from them, he falls to his knees and just breathes. And he firmly decides that he  _ hates  _ them.

( _ You really don't want to think about why you dislike them so much. But you can't stop. _

_ Your chest and stomach  _ **_hurt_ ** _. _

_ But when you place your hand against them, the scars are healed and pink and shiny and you are not bleeding like you feel you should be.) _

The next shrine - Owa Daim - is much easier to get to. The biggest threat he faces on the way there are Bokoblins, and the old man's jovial attitude. Coming across the man's hut isn't a particularly bad experience - he gets a warm doublet out of it - but he very much does not enjoy the man's company. It is an entirely petty urge that bids him to raid his house and take his axe. For some odd reason, the man doesn't stop him, and he leaves with his ill-gotten spoils.

( _ You do not throw the axe off of the cliff just to see the look on his face, but it's a near thing.) _

Stasis is a cool rune, he decides once he's left and is on his way to the last shrine - which upon completing will  _ hopefully  _ get him the paraglider. Being able to stop things in motion and move large objects is a very useful tool to have, and he's very excited to test its limits. 

As he travels into the cold mountain and through thick snow, he wonders what the last trial is. He hopes it's as easy as the others were, and that the rune is just as cool. It  _ is _ on a cold mountain, so here's hoping.

Upon entering Keh Namut and gaining the distilled rune - cryonis - he laughs softly under his breath when it turns out to be a cool one - literally.  _ Ice pillars _ , he thinks with a snort, using it to get through the shrine as quickly as he can. He wants off this plateau already.

He exits the shrine with a relieved sigh and looks up at the setting sun to see the old man gliding towards him. The man shouts out a greeting and lands gingerly, staff in hand. He smiles underneath his hood.

"You've all of the Spirit Orbs from the shrines on this plateau now. Extraordinary! It is finally time," he says, his gusto fading into something serious. "Link, it is finally time for me to tell you everything. Meet me at the Temple of Time. I shall wait for you there."

And then he dissolves into a turquoise mist and flame, leaving Link alone on the mountain. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, and his lips pinch as he watches the last of the strange substance dissipate in the crisp, cold air. His hands clench into fists, and he exhales roughly, watching it leave his lips in a cloud of white.

( _ And how angry it makes you to realize the man did know you. How angry you are at being kept in the dark. How angry you were to hear your name - a name you had to be  _ **_told_ ** _ \- leave the man's mouth. _

_ The scream is back, clawing at your throat, itching at your back teeth, pounding in your ribcage. You feel like you're going to shatter from it. _

_ It's suffocating, almost. And it makes your bones creak and groan and shake. And it's almost funny, you think with a bitter smile on your lips. _

_ Atlas can hold the world, but he can't handle his own rage. What a joke you are.) _

He thinks it is telling that despite the steady thrum of anger-betrayal-hatred pulsing under his skin, he still does as he is told, and makes his way to the Temple. It's an easy journey to make now that he's gotten used to the terrain - it helps that he's found some actual boots suited for traveling - and he's found better clothes. And there aren't as many monsters patrolling the area - he's killed more than he can count today, and that makes him vaguely ache. 

He makes it to the Temple before the sun sets - an ornate streak in the sky - and halts once he's inside its dilapidated walls. Just ahead of him, in the center, is a large statue of a woman with wings on her back. Her hands are clasped together as if in prayer and at her feet, in a circle around her, are miniatures of her image.  _ A shrine _ , he thinks,  _ to a goddess. _

It is instinct to walk up to her and fall to his knees, head bowed. Surely it's muscle memory that forces him to pray to her for he cannot see why he would want to as he is now. He has nothing for her but  _ blame. _

And yet he still kneels before her like a loyal acolyte, worshipping on her altar.

Suddenly, there is a light shining down on them, and he looks up in shock, eyes wide and mouth parted. And then he hears a voice - low and powerful, absolutely thrumming with energy. It makes his teeth feel odd in his skull and he presses his tongue to the back of them, feeling the vibration in his very bones.

" **Hero of Time,** " she says and he gasps, shoulders shaking, " **the world has need of you once more.** "

_ I cannot do it,  _ he thinks, bowing his head so he won't have to look at her. He stares at the stone beneath him, and screws his eyes shut when it begins to blur from tears.  _ I can't.  _

" **You can, and you will,** " she says. The tears begin to fall, and he can do nothing to stop them. " **You may be weary, but you are my chosen. You are the light.** "

_ No, no, no,  _ he wants to scream, but his voice will not work. The words are stuck in his throat, so he signs them against the floor with shaking hands, imploring her to listen, to  _ see. _

She does not.

" **Destiny calls to you, hero, and you must answer,** " she bellows, loud and sudden like the clap of thunder. He winces, curling into himself at her feet, and she softens. " **There is no other way.** "

He breathes against a sob, and nods, defeated in the face of her sudden remorse. He can taste it in the air like the soft fragrance of clover, and it makes him feel sick.  _ Okay. _

" **I will amplify your being and give you my blessing so that you may lay waste to that scourge Ganon,** " the goddess promises, her voice strong but gentle - like the ocean. 

Link nods and rises to his feet, the tears on his cheeks drying in the still air. He thinks he can feel her smile, and then the light is surging into him, settling into his chest and seeping into his blood. It feels like burning alive, and he opens his mouth to scream, but the pain is gone as soon as it came. And he is left feeling lighter than before but somehow steadier. As if he is not entirely settled into his body anymore, but he still holds weight.

It's a decidedly odd feeling.

" **Go, and bring peace to Hyrule,** " she tells him and he does, turning on his heel to meet the eyes of the old man - on the roof of the Temple, waiting for him. " **You will not be alone, hero.** "

He halts at that, almost tempted to turn around. He doesn't. Instead, he shoves that impulse deep down and begins to climb. When he finally makes it, he's sweating and tired, but the old man is there waiting.

He laughs when he sees Link. "Well done! Now then….the time has come to show you who I truly am. I was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule - the last ruler of Hyrule, a kingdom that no longer exists."

There is a bright light that Link flinches away from with a grunt, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the glare. When he lowers the limb, there is a king standing before him, floating with green-blue flame gently flickering around him.

"I did not think it wise to overwhelm you while your memory was still fragile, so I assumed a temporary form to put you at ease," the King explains, bowing his head in a slight nod. "Forgive me. But now, I think you are ready to hear what happened a century ago."

Link stares ahead blankly as the King begins his tale, painting a gory picture of war and heartbreak for Link to peruse and study. And what a horrible picture it is. Link can almost see it - the fires, the blood, the Guardians crawling over the land, the malice corrupting the Divine Beasts. It makes his skin itch painfully.

But  _ none _ of it is familiar.

It simply feels like a history lesson - one of great detail, but a lesson nonetheless. And though Link can feel the echo of horror and pain coming off of this King, he does not relate to it. He can understand it, he thinks, but there is no empathy in his heart for this man.

"I have no right to ask this of you," the King begins once he's finished his tale, "but please….save my daughter. Save my Zelda. Go to Kakariko Village and meet with their elder, Impa. She will guide you."

Link follows where he's pointing and marks it on his map.  _ The Dueling Peaks,  _ he thinks, hands shaking around the Slate.  _ Near the Dueling Peaks. _

He's never been more terrified.

"And here. The paraglider I promised. And that's it. I've done all I can to help you," the King laughs sadly. "Please… you must save…… Hyrule."

And then he is gone. And Link is truly alone. Funny how it was all he wanted at first, but now…. He thinks he might cry.


End file.
